Beam of Starlight
Chapter One: First Meeting
Hermione looked over the small house with contempt. All of them were busy. She and Ron had just gotten jobs with the Ministry, and Harry was helping Ginny with a new baby. They didn't have time for random letters out of the blue asking them to come talk to someone. If it weren't for the pain Harry got in his scar when he opened the letter, they wouldn't be here, and they still should've talked him out of it.
"Can we just leave now, Harry?" Hermione asked darkly, kicking at the decorative stones leading up to the front walk. Harry shook his head, gesturing with his head towards the home's front right window. "Great, we can't," Hermione mumbled, scoffing as she wrapped her arm with Ron's. "Let's get this over with then. I don't have all day."
The three stepped up to the door and rang the bell. The curtain of the window shut within seconds of them walking up to the door, and within a millisecond of them ringing the bell, the door was standing wide open, revealing an older witch. She was skinny with curly, grey hair. Her face was lined with wrinkles, but she seemed vibrant inside. She welcomed them all into her living room and offered them all tea. Everyone refused.
"My, my, I thought this would happen," she smiled, pouring herself some tea and stirring in a handful of sugar cubes. "I know all of you have your own lives, but a source of mine told me I should contact all three of you to set things straight. I have a lot to discuss with you, but it's all of grave importance. If you feel your lives are more important, you may leave now without hearing anything. But if you feel I have brought something important to your attention, well, stay with me to hear this tale through."
"Well we can't just leave without some details, Madam," Ron said darkly, shifting in his seat. "Do you mind telling us what this is all about?"
"I don't mind giving some hints," she smiled joyfully, sitting back in her chair. "I am an extremely important figure of the wizard world, much like Harry or the late You-Know-Who. But I'm different than every other witch or wizard because I was manipulated into hiding my greatness. My friends and allies have convinced me to come forward now because well...we need your help dealing with thieves. We aren't allowed to talk to the Ministry, and once our names slipped out to some bored former-Death Eaters, well we've lost thousands of pounds worth of family heirlooms."
"We work for the Ministry, Ron and me. Are we allowed to help you if they cannot?" Hermione questioned, her interest finally rising. Whoever this woman was, she wanted more information.
"Well, I'm actually not sure why we haven't tried contacting the Ministry," she said, pursing her lips and thinking for a moment. She sipped her tea before her face returned to a normal state. "The person who bought us off has been dead for five years now. I don't know how much his power still lingers, but we feel it's the right time to bring about the truth. He was a good man to the right people, but his favoritism was too strong. He ruined all of our lives, and now we only have the items we need to get back."
"What are we to do?" Harry questioned. "Are we to spill this story to the media and let them do whatever with that information? Or are we to get back your things so you can live in peace?"
"Those are all good questions, Harry," she smiled. "I see why he chose you now, but...well this involves some storytelling. Do you all have time for storytelling?"
"I think I speak for everyone when I say we're interested in your story now," Hermione said slowly, eying Ron and Harry to make sure they actually were in agreement. "We're not sure how to help you yet, but we're willing to hear every detail. If you'll allow me to send an owl to the Ministry to let them know we're away on business, we'll continue without interruption."
"That's perfectly fine, darling, but you'll have to use your own owl," she grinned. "The man I'm about to tell you about sort of blacklisted mine with some bureaucratic nonsense. Either way, no owls from my house are even allowed near the Ministry grounds, and they certainly won't read what's attached to the owl, even if it's a death threat or genuine information. But I'll get to more of that later," she smiled, blushing as she realized she was rambling. She led Hermione out to the back garden to do everything, leaving Ron and Harry alone.
"I'm trying to figure out who she's talking about beforehand, but I can only think of the names of former ministers. They would have the kind of power to turn a witch away from society," Harry whispered, rubbing his chin in thought. "Do you have any ideas, Ron?"
"I do, but I keep telling myself that my guess is wrong, quite wrong," he replied, his expression nervous.
"Do you mind telling me what you're thinking?" Harry questioned. Ron nodded sternly. "So you're not going to tell me?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head fiercely, trying his hardest to look normal a split second later when the woman returned with Hermione behind her.
"We should be excused, and Ginny will be phoned, Harry," Hermione said gently, smiling as she accepted a cup of tea for the woman. "We're all ready now for your story."
"It starts about twenty years ago. I was working at Hogwarts as a scholar for the Ministry. I had about seven novels going on at once for various subjects, as did my friends. We were what the Muggles call geniuses, and we worked tirelessly to pass our knowledge onto others. We were young and strong, and that caught the attention of Albus Dumbledore," she said, sighing carefully. "He knew we were fairly good at prediction magic, using spells, potions, and bits of divination to predict the future. He discovered in one of our journals that we'd seen of a great evil building within a particular student. Our theories varied, but we all agreed that he would go on to be one of the most vile wizards to ever be born.
"Dumbledore was curious about our theories, and we thought he was genuine. We talked with him for hours revealing every secret we had. It was the biggest mistake we ever made," she spat, her face growing red with anger from her past. "Dumbledore told us two weeks later that he already knew about this wizard and that he was going to try to help him. We didn't think even he could fix whatever went wrong with that child, but we didn't mind him trying.
"Six months later, we were forced into hiding by Dumbledore and the Ministry. They had a very specific decree to keep us away from the public world, and we became slaves or prisoners or whatever horrible word you want to use. The point is that Dumbledore had a fierce and private conversation with me the day before. He cornered me in the main hallway near the Great Hall shortly before midnight, pressing me into the wall with his taller form," she said, her voice lowering. She leaned forward, eying her three guests carefully, "He told me that dark wizard was going to create some of the strongest witches and wizards the world ever saw, and that we should keep our bloody noses out of it.
"I guess he knew I wasn't going to let that happen, but after being exiled and blacklisted, we were forced to keep quiet. One of us tried sending a letter to the former Minister of Magic, hoping he could help. The next night, her home was ransacked by Death Eaters. They left a calling card of sorts," she said, standing up and moving to a wooden box on her mantle. "You all might recognize the card itself."
What the woman revealed was a card from Dumbledore's office, one revealing when a good time for an appointment was. The students carried them when they'd asked to meet with the headmaster but discovered he was busy. On the opposite side was usually the headmaster's picture, but this card had a Dark Mark on it instead.
"H-He sent this to you?" Ron trembled. The woman nodded. "He set up the entire thing to shut you up?"
"He said it was all apart of his plan, whatever that meant," the woman sighed, sinking into her chair again, almost exhausted from telling her own story. "If we slipped up, he ratted us out to the Death Eaters. We came to realize that he'd started everything, that he controlled every aspect of that war. Yes, he died in it. We're aware that many others did as well. But he died from his own greed, from his own attempt to manipulate the system. We're seers," the woman said sternly, sitting up straight in her chair, "and we watched every aspect of that war unfold. He let Snape kill him to let everyone think Snape was the bad guy. Everyone was the bad guy except the man who needed to appear good: Albus Dumbledore."
Silence filled the room as the woman sipped her tea, her face sagging from exhaustion as she stared at the floor. Harry and Ron were simply dumbfounded. How could Dumbledore use his power to do such dark deeds? Was he really that sort of man? Hermione's face was twisted in anger, disgust, and fear. She believed the woman because of that final mentioning of Dumbledore's death. Everyone thought Professor Snape was the one responsible for a cold-blooded murder, that the murder was carried out for impure reasons. Yes, the truth came out later, but was that really the entire truth?
Hermione wanted to know more, but the woman looked too tired to go on. She nibbled some tea biscuits on the tray and stared off to some faraway place unseen by the young adults. The sun shifted outside, casting shadows into the living room. A pair of candles lit themselves on the mantelpiece, giving them a little more light. They would've been grateful if their minds weren't spinning from the horrid tale.
"Well," the woman said, clearing her throat as she eyed the clock. "I expect you all to come back tomorrow. I can't carry on today, but I know where our stolen property is and who has it. Do you all mind helping me and the others?"
"We'll do whatever we can," Hermione replied firmly. "I'll try to take time off from the Ministry to dedicate more time to your case. Ron might as well, but Harry is a new father, so-"
"I understand that you all are busy, but I'm eternally grateful. It's time for this to all come to light. The world doesn't need to know, but the right people do," she nodded, winking with a smile. "That's why I contacted you all, and I want to thank you in advance."
The young adults nodded, each of them stepping outside. They exchanged glances before boarding their brooms. The Burrow wasn't too far away, so they flew there, their minds racing with thoughts. They were silent and preoccupied, a state that would not go unnoticed.
